


All that's dead and gone and passed tonight

by brookes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Feels, CACW, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War (Marvel), Drabble, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-War, canon AU, this is my first time writing like anything ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookes/pseuds/brookes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Sitting out on the fire escape smoking a cigarette as the sun went down. All while Steve silently drew pictures of him and listened to every beautiful damn thing Bucky had to say.</em> </p><p>Alternate Civil War ending in which Steve wants to comfort Bucky and insists they can protect him without putting him back in cryo stasis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All that's dead and gone and passed tonight

Steve is sitting at one end of the sofa, with a sketchbook and pencil in his lap. He's not sure what time it is but he knows it's late, and knows neither of them really feel like sleeping. Bucky and Steve have been sitting in silence for probably over an hour now. Not a bad silence, Steve thinks, but comfortable and peaceful. He's just enjoying Bucky's company if he's being honest. Just appreciating the fact that he finally has his best friend back by his side after so long without him. 

Steve's mug of coffee resting on the small living room table in front of him would be cold by now. Bucky sits still as he watches the television, though the volume is turned down low. Steve is sure Bucky can't even hear it. He probably isn't even watching. Steve wishes he knew what's going on inside his head, he just wants to know that he's okay. But he doesnt know how to ask.

They've been back for about two days now - after returning from the raft and coming home to DC with Sam - all of them still trying to process what to do next, now that it's all over. 

He watches Bucky staring at the television, the lights and colours flickering over Bucky's face, and goes back to his drawing. He sketches Bucky soft and delicately, lines overlapping as he traces Bucky's silhouette. He's careful with the strokes of his pencil as he draws Bucky's side profile. Captures him staring off into the distance. Looking deep in thought. 

Steve can't remember how long it's been since he tried to draw his best friend. Every time he used to try he could never get it right. It's not that he couldn't remember Bucky's face well enough, because he could definitely never forget those sharp blue eyes or his cocky smile that easily. He could never quite capture him the way he wanted to, the way he tried to over and over. He didn't think he could do Bucky justice. 

Steve always tries his best not to reminisce on all their lives together before the war. Memories of a small Brooklyn apartment, little food and no money with nothing but Bucky there by his side, taking care of each other while the war carried on. 

He thinks of Bucky sitting around while he let Steve sketch him. Bucky sitting lazily on the bed reading a book, or telling Steve stories about his day or the lovely new dame he'd met that week, or sitting out on the fire escape smoking a cigarette as the sun went down. All while Steve silently drew pictures of him and listened to every beautiful damn thing Bucky had to say. 

And when Steve didn't feel like going out dancing so Bucky would insist on staying home with him instead, and they'd end up snuggling close in bed, fighting against the cold together until they fell asleep. 

Steve looks up from his drawing and now Bucky's head is hung and eyes cast down to his hands in his lap. Steve closes his book and places it over on the coffee table.

"Buck.." Steve starts, and reaches out to gently touch his arm. Bucky glances up at him.

"You've hardly said anything after everything happened, since we've been back. C'mon, talk to me," Steve tries.

"I just - I still don't think I was worth any of this. 'M not," Bucky says quietly. Steve's heart aches. 

"Y'know i keep thinking... Maybe it'd be better, maybe everyone would be better off if I just went back into cryo," Bucky says as looks down away from Steve again.

"Buck no, come on -"

"Steve,"he cuts him off.

"That wasn't you." Steve wants to tell him over and over again until Bucky knows this. Until he stops tearing himself down for everything he didn't actually do.

"I still hurt so many people, I've done so much damage, I.. I don't want to hurt anyone else," Bucky's voice almost breaks and Steve can almost feel the pain in his voice. 

"You won't, okay? You're safe now. You're not gonna hurt anyone Bucky, I promise", Steve insists.

"You don't know that". Bucky goes back to staring blankly at the television. There's a short silence between them before anyone speaks again.

"I promise I won't let that happen. We can protect you, Buck. I'm here, okay, you're safe with me. I'm not leaving you, and you're not leaving me again. We're together and we're both staying, alright?

"Everything's going to be okay now," Steve says and gently reaches for Bucky's face, brushing a loose strand of hair away. Bucky closes his eyes and doesn't reply. 

"Are you tired?" Steve asks. Bucky shakes his head.

Steve sighs. "Well, we should both probably get some sleep." He begins to get up but Bucky places a hand on his arm.

"Stay with me," Bucky says softly. Steve is surprised but replies without any hesitation, "Of course." 

He places his hands on Bucky's arm too. 

"We can just sit up, I don't mind. I'm not all that tired anyway," Steve says as he sits back in the corner of the sofa again. Bucky shuffles around on the sofa and, to Steve's surprise again, slowly leans into Steve to lie down. Neither man says anything as Steve lets Bucky settle into his arms, relaxing on his chest. They slot together easily. And they fit perfectly, Steve thinks. 

They lie like that for a little while, Bucky's weight on top of Steve, wrapped up in his arms. Their breathing becoming in sync. Until Bucky moves suddenly, and Steve is concernced.

"What are you-" Steve begins, but realises Bucky is reaching for Steve's sketchbook on the coffee table. 

"Well, give us a look", Bucky says. When he picks it up he begins quickly flipping through the small book, through the pages of unfinished sketches until he lands on the most recent page. He smiles, brushing his fingers over Steve's soft pencil strokes that outline his own features perfectly. 

"Yeah, you always were a pretty shit drawer," Bucky teases. "Looks nothing like me, I think you've lost your touch," he says smugly. Steve shoves him gently and they both let out a laugh. 

They eventually fall asleep pressed together on the sofa, happy and content to be back in each other's arms.

.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never really written anything before so I thought I'd start somewhere
> 
> Please let me know what you think!
> 
> follow me on tumblr [sebstucky](http://sebstucky.tumblr.com/)


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